


take me with you now

by veterization



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2616617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veterization/pseuds/veterization
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for Silent Spy. If Nancy were to trust Alec a little more, and stay in Scotland a little longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me with you now

**Author's Note:**

> This story is in second person because why the hell not.
> 
> This was originally supposed to be a tiny 3k blurb that grew a little in size. Ultimately, it's a desperate plea to the Nancy Drew fandom to write more for this pairing. It grabs you and traps you and will not let you go. Now JOIN ME.
> 
> Title from the lovely song Simple Desire by All Mankind.

You trust him. You don't know why, but you trust him.

You know he's lying to you, and that he probably has other motives for helping you with your suitcase, but there's something about him you're drawn to, so you trust your instincts. 

He introduces himself to you as Alec, and promises to find your suitcase, and tells you he’s happy to help even if he doesn’t work at the station. It should raise red flags for you, a man selflessly offering to collect your stolen property a few minutes after arriving in Glasgow, but you’re interested if nothing else as to what he even has to gain by helping you out. So you let him.

He finds your suitcase, and passes it back to you at the station.

“If there’s anything else you need,” he offers. He looks like a face you’ve seen before, like someone you’ve known for a while. It tickles you in a strange way. 

You decide, your father’s words in your mind telling you to trust nobody, to work with him.

\-- 

You take him with you to the safe house. 

The log cabin is still a mystery to you. You’re sure your mother hid clues, but everything appears to be locked up tight with information you don’t yet have, so you go instead to the arena. The sound of the door closing behind you echoes in the room, full of sunlight and the smell of leather. You stay here for a little longer, flipping through the strewn books on bagpipes and the hanging punching bag.

“Hey, Nancy,” Alec waves a practice bow in your direction. “How are you with arrow shooting?”

“Not too good,” you say. When you were younger, barely eight, your mother encouraged you to take a few classes—but you were petulant back then, and quick to be frustrated just like you were with the piano, and gave up the sport long before the muscles in your arm could adapt to the strength of the bow. Your mother, however, she was good. You remember her being good at everything.

"I'm not too bad at archery myself,” he tells you with a hint of pride, one eyebrow cocked.

It surprises you. "Really?"

He picks up the bow to show you. The target goes whizzing by, faster than most, and the arrow hits it. It's almost dead-center, not quite perfect, but you still find yourself to be impressed. 

The next target crawls by, further away than the first, and it gives you time to watch Alec take his stance and focus. A crease of concentration forms between his eyes, his mouth opens a touch, and his arm draws back without pause as he pulls the arrow with him. He releases it with a rush of air, and it grazes the center line. It's close enough to the bull’s-eye that you give him the points. 

“Okay,” you admit. “You’re not too bad.”

You end up competing. He puts his name on the board, _SmartAlec_ , a clever moniker he invents that you try not to mock him for. You try your hand at archery after him, but you're a bit rustier, the bow foreign to your hands. The pull and snap of the string is harsher than you expect, and your first arrow goes free before you intend to let it go. It hits the outer circle of the target, trapping it against the hay.

"It's all about finding the right line of sight," he tells you, "here."

Suddenly, he's there, close enough that you can smell soft whiffs of his cologne as he steps closer. He seems hesitant to invade your personal space, making sure not to touch you too much as he braces his arms around your shoulders and helps you aim the bow. His hands are warm where they wrap around yours, guiding your fingers into place on the arrow and string. 

He nudges the bow lower, level with your left eye, as the next target slides up. His hands feel warmer still. 

"Let go," he says. His accent seems to rumble in your ear.

You do so. The arrow darts into the air, quick as a bullet, and stops the target in its tracks. You hit the second innermost ring, which is an improvement if nothing else. Alec steps back again, the weight of his presence behind you strangely dissatisfying as it vanishes. 

"Not too bad," you say.

"Eh." He doesn't seem to agree. "Guess I'm not that good a teacher."

“That’s all right,” you say, “I’m a pretty fast learner.”

You smile over your shoulder at him as you draw another arrow, pulling it taut before releasing it toward the next target. You do a better job this time, the arrow a few centimeters closer to the center. This time, he seems to be impressed with you.

You spend a lot of time there—too much time. It’s almost cathartic, aiming for the targets until your arms ache. You get to concentrate, and you get to focus your energy, and for the first time in a while, you get to share a mystery with someone. It makes you wonder if you should be wishing Ned was here, or even Bess and George, but you don’t. You’re glad it’s Alec.

He helps you out with your technique a few more times before you lay the bow to rest. Each time, you think he gets closer than necessary, and you don’t mind.

\--

Moira tells you not to give out the information of the safe house to anybody.

You tell her you haven't.

\--

You tell your father when he calls about the man who helped you at the train station, and he's much warier than you are. He tells you to bug Alec, to stay alert and trust no one, and usually you'd agree, but your detective instincts are hardly ever wrong, so you follow them over your father's word. 

You don't plant a bug on him. Instead, you talk to him, and he tells you whatever he's comfortable sharing. You can tell from his body language alone that there's a lot he won't.

"Just tell me," you plead when he trails off conversations. You’ve started realizing that this case is nothing like the ones you’re used to, and secrets are dangerous, not just for you. “Whatever it is you’re hiding, just say it.”

He refuses. "If I tell you anything, I'm putting you in danger."

You want to tell him that you're already in danger—actually, you're always in danger—but a different thought takes priority. 

"Why are you so worried about my safety?" You can't figure it out.

He gives you a look like you ought to know already, which you don't appreciate. It reminds you of that of which you already know—when it comes to picking up the clues of cases, you're a pro. Not so much when it comes to reading relationships, identifying a feeling, something Ned resents you for.

"Does it matter?" He asks you. He sounds tired. 

You suppose it doesn't, especially not in these circumstances. It almost makes you feel silly, asking such a question when there are lives at stake and an entire city to save from a conspiratorial attack. 

You let it go.

\--

Bridget knows you took Alec with you to the safe house right away, and it gives you pause to think about really being that transparent.

Long after she’s left her wig in her room and has returned with lipstick redder than blood, it makes you feel better when you find out that she’s not the average girl, she’s an international spy whose entire career focuses on noticing the details. Still, you wonder what tipped her off—if she’s been watching the two of you at the train station, or if she’s been listening in on your conversations. If your interest in him is written all over your face in bright marker.

_I know he’s not into me, but now I see why._

It makes you embarrassed and flustered just to think about it, Bridget’s teasing at the idea of you and Alec coyly interested in each other, and even worse, if she meant it. If Alec really is interested in you, or if it was Zoe’s idea of manipulating her way into your head.

You don’t know why, but you want him to be interested. You’re certainly drawn to him, even if you can’t understand why. It’s moments like this where you always hope that Ned would be a little flirtier, a little harder to tame, if only to make you feel better about how your eye occasionally wanders. Sometimes he gets a look in his eyes, something sad and resigned like he already knows that you need someone just as wild and free to fly across the world with, someone that isn’t him, and you never know how to respond. Maybe he’s right, maybe you do need someone more adventurous, but you’ve never given it enough thought to truly consider the idea. For you, it was always Ned. Entertaining the idea of somebody else, especially as a permanent fixture in your life, was unthinkable.

You have no idea if Alec is that person—the one who can run alongside you just as hard as you do. Maybe he’s just a taste of the idea of doing so, of finding someone else, of trying something new. Learning what you need, what you want. Whatever this is between you, it’s anything but permanent, after all. Home is still waiting for you, and for Alec, home is here.

_May I refer you to the case of Tree versus Nancy and Alec. Tree alleges k-i-s-s-i-n-g._

Your first response at the time would’ve been to say _we haven’t kissed_ , or at least, not yet, but you were too ruffled to say so. Denial seemed like a much smarter option.

Later, when it’s Zoe you’re talking to—whose hard edges have no interest in teasing you—you tell her, “There really is nothing between me and Alec.”

Her response is a roll of her eyes, too dismissive for your liking, and a derisive, “Yeah. All right. What you do with your own time is not my concern, Drew.” 

\--

You bug Alec at your father’s insistence. You know he’s hiding something, something he’s supposedly keeping away for your own safety, but at this point you can’t afford to trust blindly. 

It jars you when you finally listen to his conversations at the station, clearly hushed and urgent. He says things like “promise me you’re not going to hurt her” and “I want to hear her voice,” and it makes you colder than it should. It sparks a flurry of questions to whirl up in your mind, mostly if you’ve imagined everything about he’s treated you, how he’s brushed up close to you, how his eyes have lingered on yours longer than necessary. If everybody warning you to trust no one was right, and you’ve been manipulated without pausing to consider the idea. Does Alec have a wife? Does he have someone important enough to him to spur him to sell you out?

You’re angry by the time you make it back to the station and see Alec, leaning against the wall with perfect nonchalance. You feel the ridiculous urge to hit him, smack the answers out of him, and you stomp up to him as you make it through the door.

You end up yelling at him. He’s been talking around the issue for too long, all under the guise of protecting you, but you’re no longer interested in his excuses. You call him out for what he’s done, and how he’s sold you out.

You can see the illusions stripping away from his face once you do. His shoulders slump, he exhales, and then he talks. He talks about the call he got, one from his panicked sister telling him to _do as they say_. His sister. His sister, Grace, taken away from her home and putting Alec and her husband in a frenzy. The call that ended in him being a tool of leverage by Revenant, a veritable unwilling puppet.

“Your sister,” you say, and he nods. Some of your anger simmers away. “That was your sister you were talking about?”

“Yes,” Alec says with a heavy sigh. Something seems to light up as recognition in his eyes. “You were worried she wasn’t?”

You shift, feeling uncomfortably confronted. “No.”

“Really?”

He’s smiling now, clearly flatted. The urge to smack him doesn’t subside. You opt instead for switching gears and ignoring him. “Just be honest with me,” you say, firmly this time.

“Nancy,” he sighs. “The less I share, the safer you’ll be.”

“I’m not exactly safe either way.”

“I still don’t want to throw you toward more danger.” His eyes are pleading now. “This thing with my sister—it’s my problem.” You open your mouth to say that it isn’t, not anymore, but he quiets you when he grabs your hand in his and slots your fingers together. “Please. Don’t ask any more.”

You look down at your fingers. You want to pull your hand away, swear not to fall for anymore tricks, but he’s holding onto you tightly, so tightly your hand almost hurts in his grasp. You turn to his eyes, begging you to let go of what you’ve found out, and feel some of the fight you stormed here with leave you.

“Believe it or not, we’re stronger together,” you tell him. Your fingers curl around his in a show of unity, and it makes his tight grip on your palm loosen. 

“Stronger than we are alone,” he sighs, “but not stronger than they are.”

He pulls his hand away, only to tug you closer. His lips find your forehead, warm and trembling, hands slipped over your shoulders. The kiss is nearly parental, except there’s nothing fatherly about how you react to it, a shiver lacing down your spine as he pulls back. 

He tells you to be safe, and then he’s gone.

\--

You tell Alec when you find all the cards in the deck.

You know you need a safe place to put them, and you think Alec can help, despite everything. You believe his story about his sister, even when Ewan doesn’t back up its validity, and you want to believe that Alec still has the good of Scotland in his mind, even with his sister’s life dangling in the balance in front of him. 

Your father tells you to soak them, and after an hour, you return back upstairs, Alec with you this time. He looks just as excited as you at the prospect of hiding the formula, the one weapon that can either jumpstart Colony or put a screeching stop to it, of keeping it secure in the safe house where no one can misuse it.

It all goes well until you open the door.

You hardly remember exactly how it happens after that. Your eyes taking in the destroyed mess of your pristine hotel room, the chairs upturned and the paintings crooked, and then—the red light aimed in your direction. And then, even later, the laser.

You bring it to Alec with a heavy heart once you realize the formula’s gone. It takes away the rest of his defenses, the rest of his walls, and he gives in. You believe, if nothing else, that he didn’t intend to hurt you, even if he did almost hurt most of Glasgow by agreeing to barter with the men holding his sister. You tell him you can save Grace together, without Revenant, without the cards, without anyone getting hurt.

You agree to be honest after that. Completely honest.

\--

The bomb nearly goes off.

You’re almost too late, your fingers frantic as they work on disarming it before the timer goes off. Even with Zoe in your ear, feeding you urgent instructions, you feel like someone’s turned off the volume in the world for that last thirty seconds, the ticking numbers burning into your retinas as you keep an eye on them.

It’s strange, because you don’t spend your last moments thinking of Ned, or Bess, or George, or even Carson—your mind is wrapped purely around the people of Scotland, around your duty to protect innocent lives. You wonder if your mother thought the same when she made the decision to go to Glasgow. If she did, you think you understand why she left.

Everything after that is a blur. You keep watch by the wall Ewan’s trapped behind until the authorities arrive and wrangle him away. He sends you a look over his shoulder unlike one you’ve seen before, not apologetic, not revengeful, not even manic—just defeated. A few officers with thick Scottish accents shake your hand, murmuring their thanks for what you’ve done, and then you’re free to go.

You step out of the lodge expecting the world to look different—tipped on its axis, monumentally changed—now that it’s been saved, but it’s exactly the same. The only thing you see out of place is that Alec is pacing back and forth in front of the vendor stand, hand wound into his hair. He stops short when he sees you, like he’s been waiting, and charges forward.

“Nancy!” he nearly shouts. “Thank god.”

He pulls you to his chest, the strength of his arms almost crushing as he wraps them around you. It’s the sort of hug that feels like your ribcage might be flattened under the pressure, but you still let Alec hold you with a fierceness that you know comes from having just walked away unscathed from an active bomb.

“I’m okay,” you say into his shoulder, pressed tight to your chin. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

That only makes him hold you that much tighter, mumbling unintelligible words into your hair that you can hardly make out. They all sound like muffled gratitude that everything’s worked out all right, that the city’s all right, that you’re all right too. 

He pulls back after a few more moments of wordless squeezing, finally letting you free to breathe as he steps back, hands firm on your shoulders. His bottom lip is bruised, almost like he’s been biting down on it in a frenzy for the past ten minutes. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks.

“Totally fine,” you tell him. “Ewan’s gone. Last I saw he was being taken away, hopefully for good.”

He looks relieved, but doesn’t say so. Instead, his hands hold on tightly to your arms. “I don’t care. You’re safe, and that’s what matters.”

He exhales, as if letting out a breath he’s kept in for hours, and looks at you carefully, engraining the image of you whole and well into his brain. You wonder if this is odd, how connected you are to someone you’ve just met, someone who’s staged a laser-point show in your room, someone who’s just started being honest with you. You don’t know the answer, but you do know that you do care, and that you’re glad he’s fine too.

\--

You lock up the safe house, hopefully for the last time, after Ewan is imprisoned.

Zoe is on Revenant's tail, just like Cathedral, and you want to be optimistic that they'll smother the organization for good. You can't imagine not coming back to Scotland if you find out it isn't, and there are just too many Ewans in the world to rule out the possibility.

Still, you're hopeful. You and Alec close up the safe house and the arena, and you take the keys with you. Moira will never return anyway, not when the place is saturated with too many pressing memories, too many things Kate's touched. You're just glad that when you're here, you only see traces of Kate, you don't relive moments of her.

In the panic of the attack, you didn't realize how beautiful the place is. The woodwork in the cabin, the sun filtering through the mountains, the clear lake water swimming in lazy ripples when the wind blows by. You stop and take a moment to take it all in after you lock up the arena. 

"You wish you could be here with her," Alec says from by your side. He's looking out over the water as well, but his eyes are far away, occupied with thoughts. "Don't you?"

He's rarely said Kate's name to you. He probably expects it to be a sore spot for you, something that will bring out a new, mercurial side that lashes out and demands privacy. You find that you don't mind. Actually, you like talking about her. You've spent so many years biting back questions about Kate in fear of your father's reaction that to finally put her out in the open feels refreshing, like finding a lost photo album and relishing in the dusty pictures.

"A part of me does," you say honestly. "It would be great to see Scotland through her eyes." After all, Moira had said you used to all spend time here together, happily at that. You wish you could remember.

"I know it's rough, knowing you'll never get the chance," Alec says.

"It's okay." That bit's honest too. "She wouldn't want me to think like that. She'd want me enjoy the company I have."

Alec looks at you. Here, in the early morning sun, his eyes are brighter than usual. 

"And do you?"

You smile. "I do." 

In the distance, a bird calls out high over the waters, soaring into the trees. The air here is fresh, almost like it might be on a mountaintop, nothing like the air and nature in River Heights. You find that you really will miss Scotland when you leave. 

"Hey, Nancy," Alec says, something unsure in his tone.

You turn to him. He seems to consider you, a deeper, unspoken conversation churning through his eyes that his mouth isn't saying. There's something like subtle reverence in his eyes, a look meaning _I'm glad we're alive_ that you understands all too well. And then Alec reaches over, brushing your chin with his thumb, and he's kissing you.

You think that you should think of Ned, but you don't. The way Alec kisses you, holds you, cups your cheek, it's all completely different from how Ned ever has. And you know it's wrong, to arch up into Alec's touch when you have a boy waiting for you at home, but you do, and you kiss him back, and you swallow up the soft noise he makes in response. His hand touches your hair gently, like too firm a touch and you'll jerk away, but you don't. The moment has too tight a hold on you for you to even consider slipping away.

So you kiss him back. It's just a chaste brush of the lips, mouths closed and aligned and perfect next to each other, but it's the sort of kiss that makes you feel like Alec will be able to feel the rapid thump of your heartbeat through your cheek. It's thrilling, and different, and exhilaratingly new, so you slide yourself closer and lay a hand on his chest, the zipper of his jacket cold under your touch. You breathe in, finding that Alec's aftershave smells minty. 

A bird calls into the sky, reminding you of the reality around you. You pull away, slowly at best, and feel like you've just experienced something you don't even have to think about. Something you'll remember with clarity months later with pink cheeks. Something you'll ache for again.

"We could go sailing," Alec says suddenly. His hand is still on your cheek. "The lake looks perfect, doesn't it?"

You turn to the left to take in the bright blue water and the wild greenery that's framing it, Alec's thumb brushing your chin as you do so. It pushes a shiver through your body. The last time you were sailing, it was you and your father all the way back in River Heights on Fourth of July.

"That sounds really nice," you agree.

His hand slides away from your face. "Ah, but you have to go, don't you?" Alec asks. "No time for exploring Scotland."

You think about it. Your father is certainly expecting you with impatient arms, and Ned's definitely worried, and you have obligations waiting for you—but you feel like you ought to expand your trip. Associate Scotland with more than just being lured here by Revenant. 

"Not yet," you say. "We still have to find your sister."

Alec raises an eyebrow. "You want to help?"

"You bet I do."

\--

The search starts off rocky. 

You feel like you might have a better chance of tracking her if you'd still have access to Ewan's computer, but his office has been roped off and searched by other members of Cathedral, so you have nothing but guesswork to work with. You make do, especially since knowing little but coming up with a lot is your specialty. 

You spend some time at the train station together, pouring over maps and looking for discreet, inconspicuous locations that are still central to Revenant's main target area. The longer you stare at the maps, the bigger Scotland seems to get.

It wears Alec down, you notice that much. Now that he no longer has to worry about the Colony attack, his mind is one hundred percent on Grace, on bringing her home safely. You try to imagine if it was your father, held hostage at your expense, and promise him you’ll find her. You won’t even think about going home without finding her. It seems to reassure him, even in his state of dread and nerves.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. Your hand finds his back, rubbing up and down to calm him. He seems to be considering the worst—that you won’t find her, or that once you do, it’ll be too late.

For a while, all you find are dead ends. You see the way Alec’s face falls every time he realizes so, and decide then to bring in professional help. 

You call the number Zoe’s been texting you with, and ask for her help. 

She says _why am I not surprised you’re still here_ , but ultimately, she comes along. 

\--

With Zoe’s help, you find Grace.

The men who were holding her captive bolted when Ewan was arrested, and she’s halfway to escaping by herself when Zoe calls you with the location. It’s a ratty warehouse, the sort of place that makes your heart sink when you imagine somebody locked up in its depths—for you, no less, and the information you possibly had—and you feel incredibly sorry upon seeing it. You’d apologize if you didn’t already know that it wasn’t exactly your fault.

Alec doesn’t waste time running inside when you pull up. Zoe’s inside, and she chides you for taking as long as you did when you arrive.

“She’s fine,” Zoe reports. “Hungry, tired, and annoyed that you took so damn long—but fine.”

And she looks it too—exhausted, frazzled, completely worn—but she lights up when Alec storms into the room and takes her into his arms. You watch it happen with sentimental eyes, the sight warming to see. Zoe stands next to you while Alec spins her in clumsy circles, whispering gratitude in her ear that she’s all right while she tells him to put her back on her feet.

“She’ll need rest,” Zoe says. “You need to let her sleep before you bombard her with questions.” She turns to you next, a calculating, all-knowing, very unnerving look in her eyes as she gives you a once-over. “Don’t worry. You’ll have him back after they reunite.”

You look at her. “Zoe—”

“Don’t even,” she cuts in. “You think I don’t have eyes in my head?” She must notice how alarmed you are at the idea of being so transparent, and sighs a moment later. “It’s no big deal. He’s clearly into you, so it's not exactly hard to notice."

"That's enough."

Zoe groans. She jabs her elbow in your stomach. "Loosen up, Nancy. You’re allowed to have a crush. You’re a teenager, for god’s sake.”

You think about telling her that it’s more complicated than that—you’re going home soon, you have Ned waiting for you at home—but you think you can already anticipate her answer. _So what? You almost died. Why don’t you just live in the moment for once instead of yapping so much?_ She seems satisfied when you say nothing.

Alec comes up to you then, one arm supporting Grace by the waist. Her eyes are tired, drooping where they're fighting to stay alert, but they still travel over you with just enough recognition in her gaze that you're sure she knows exactly who you are right away.

"I'm taking Grace home," Alec says. "Making sure she gets a long night's rest."

"Sounds like a great idea," you say.

He reaches out to you with his hand, so you mirror him and do the same until he grabs your fingers. He looks spent and infinitely grateful all at once. 

"Thank you," he says. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

He grips your hand and ducks in just long enough for a quick kiss on your head through your hair, you extremely aware of Zoe watching the entire exchange critically all the while. After he vanishes with his sister, Zoe speaks up with a long, knowing click of the tongue. 

"Hmm," she murmurs. "That was... platonic."

She looks at you with eyes that not only judge, but seem to know more than even you do. You feel yourself heat up under her observation. You think again about speaking up the obvious—you have a boyfriend, she's totally off base, etc, etc. You know she would see straight through you.

"I like him," you end up saying truthfully, more truthfully than you would've liked.

"Good for you," Zoe says. She uncrosses her arms. "All right, you sad sack. Let’s bring you back to the hotel." She tilts her head to the side, considering something. "But first, where do you want to grab a bite to eat?"

\--

Grace is gorgeous, kind, inquisitive, and hardly shaken when you meet her the next day. 

The hardly shaken part is the bit that amazes you. There are still deep, mottled bruises on her wrists where she was bound, and she still carries the unsure air of one recently kidnapped around her like a coat, but still, she is lovely. You understand instantly why Alec would go to the ends of the earth for her safety. 

"I've heard a lot about you," she tells you when she shakes your hand. She says it with a dry edge, like she hasn't heard the best things from the most reputable sources, but she seems intrigued to meet you anyway. "You're quite the celebrity in these parts."

It embarrasses you, even if she doesn't mean it to. 

"I can only imagine what you've heard," you tell her.

"The worst stuff, of course. Like that you don't replace toilet paper even after you've used it all." She nudges you. Her accent is even thicker than Alec's. "It's all right. I know you got my brother out of a lot of trouble."

"Hey," he interjects. "I did the same for her."

He doesn't go into details. He probably knows that should he go into the suitcase story, you'll launch straight into the tale of the laser pointer set up. It felt important and deceitful and cruel at the time, but here and now, you understand. You'd do the same for any one of your friends any day. 

"I'd love to hear more about you myself," Grace says kindly. "Straight from the horse's mouth this time."

She has a nice smile, and you like her very much. You find yourself wanting to know more about her as well, to sit down and have a long dinner that puts everything in the clear. Alec seems to read your mind.

"We'll all eat together, how's that?" He suggests.

“Sounds like a splendid idea,” Grace says. “I’ve been craving some neeps and tatties from the Ten Raven since last Tuesday.”

You’re amazed at how fast she’s recovered, how easily she can joke about her time being held hostage. Maybe the world always looks brighter after you realize you’re alive, you’ve survived, you’ve still got time left. You admire her. 

“Are you sure you don’t need more time to rest?” you ask her.

“Nonsense. I’ve had enough,” she turns to you. “Nancy, are you all right with Scottish food?”

You nod, and you’re off. You expected to walk behind them, let them catch up and lean their heads together, but Alec keeps his sister on one side and you on the other, constantly close. You’re never left out of the conversation, always roped back in by one of Grace’s questions, and wish you had more than just a few nights to get to know her. 

Her husband joins you for dinner as well, making the table of four a cozy atmosphere you haven’t felt during your visit yet. The table next to you is singing folk songs, a drunken bunch whose happiness drifts over to your table, and alongside the victory of Grace’s return home, the smiles stay firm on everyone’s faces.

Alec keeps his arm around her the entire time they talk, but his hand stays firm around yours.

\--

He walks you to your hotel after a long dinner.

You realize you're holding his arm by the time you get to the door. A loose grip, just a few fingers around his elbow, but his eyes are trained on it. 

"I believe this is you," Alec murmurs, stopping in front of the door. "Thanks for agreeing to dinner. Grace is taken with you."

"She's great," you tell him honestly. "Her husband too. It's just nice to see her back home."

He nods, smiling. It gives you a moment to notice how intimate this is—the quiet goodbye at the hotel room door. 

It reminds you of when you kissed him, and it's almost a surprise when you realize you want to do it again. All it would take is a burst of courage, something you're not exactly short on, and you could lean forward and push your lips together. You can almost imagine how he'd react—the initial shock, followed by fingers flying up to hold you by the forearms, proceeded by his mouth slotting against yours, deepening the kiss. It'd be a good kiss, dizzying almost, just like the first.

"She'll want to see you again," Alec interrupts your thoughts. His eyes flick to the door, as if seeing through it. "You need help picking up all that furniture I saw thrown about the last time I was up here?"

You shake your head. "The maids cleaned it all up pretty fast."

You want to tell him that he can come inside anyway. That he might as well stay a while longer. You don't.

"Right," his lips quirk at the edges. "Can't say I'm not disappointed that you didn't trash it yourself. I'd be pretty impressed if you really were a rockstar."

“An amateur detective isn’t exciting enough for you?”

“More than,” he says, and his eyes flick down to your mouth.

You notice it instantly, especially how the air changes. For a moment, you feel extremely aware of your surroundings, of Alec in your personal space, of your tongue that darts out to lick over your bottom lip. He wants to kiss you, and you want to kiss him, and would it be so bad to do so?

You step closer. His eyes snap back up to yours.

“Nancy,” he says, strangely breathless. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

His hand slides down to grab yours, nothing but a quick squeeze of your palm before he slips away with tight shoulders.

When you go inside, there's a message from Ned on your phone. It says _are you coming home soon?_ You ignore it.

\--

Exploring Scotland is completely different after the Colony Operation is stopped. 

Even with the heavy knowledge that it's not all over—Ewan is not the only one, and Revenant is still an anonymous, omnipresent force looming overheard—the air is lighter. You get to see more than just a train station, you get to stop and breathe the air, and you even get to take pictures.

You don't have a camera, the idea of packing one when you were home throwing clothes in a bag alongside a copy of Jabberwocky too ludicrous to indulge, so you end up relying on your phone. The quality is grainy when you zoom, and the lighting is poor, but you still get the grandeur of the scenery in nonetheless. A few times, Alec worms his way into the shot—half his back, a pointing arm, his profile in the corner—and it makes you wonder what you'll say to your dad when you show him the photographs.

"There's a great place you have to see if we take the train up to Ben Nevis," Alec says. "The mountains are incredible there. We could hike to the top if you’re up for a challenge."

"I'm up for it," you say, grinning. "Boy. It sure is nice having a native as my tour guide."

"Perks of being Scottish," Alec winks. It's more charming than you expected. "That, and this awesome accent I get to use."

You take the train, hopping between different stops. Wyvern’s Gate Station is quiet compared to some of the others you stop at, bustling with fast-moving travelers, and Alec keeps your hand in his through the crowds so you stick together.

Ben Nevis, as it turns out, is home to the tallest mountain in the entire United Kingdom, and the way it looms over the landscape like a rocky staircase into the sky is almost overwhelming.

“Woah,” you breathe out, awed. “I guess you weren’t kidding when you said this would be a challenge.”

Alec grins with the confidence only a man already accomplished enough to have reached the top of the mountain before can have. “I was,” he says, rather cheekily. “Looks like we might need to get you some hiking gear.”

You look down at your choice of attire, the sort of clothing mountains probably gobble up in their free time. You huff out a laugh. “Good idea.”

It only takes you a few hours and one new pair of terrain-ready boots to learn that hiking is not one of your talents. You’ve picked up rock-climbing and even cliff-scaling fairly well in the past, but the mountain doesn’t relent, and only seems to get steeper and steeper the further you climb, whisking your breath away with it.

You make it up the mountain eventually. All the work is worth it once you make it to the peak, the view worthy of a renaissance painting. Your feet ache and your nose is nipped pink from the cold, but it’s easy to forget about all that once you look at the bright sky and breathe in the clean, unperturbed air, untouched by the life churning on hundreds of feet below. It’s almost like living a bird’s life, high above nature and the rest of the world.

The awe must show on your face, because Alec says, “I knew you’d like it here.”

“It’s breathtaking,” you say.

“You fit right in.”

You feel your cheeks heat up after he says so, even with the mountaintop’s wind cold on your face. A shiver runs through you that Alec notices, and he wraps an arm around you to tuck you closer to share his warmth.

You wonder if you’re not thinking enough about all this when he touches you. Something about Alec is frustratingly easy, so easy you don’t bother overthinking it, but maybe you should. Maybe you should treat it as something meaningful, something important.

"You know," Alec says, his voice coming from atop your head where his chin is hooked over your hair, "I'm really, really glad we found Grace."

"Me too," you say.

"I'd be a bastard not to be glad," he says, chuckling. Then his fingers glide down your arm and back up again, a soft stroking. "But I wish I had another reason for you to stay."

You sigh, understanding. It had been easy to call your father and explain the predicament—a friend was counting on you to save a woman held hostage by Revenant. You didn't want to leave a job unfinished. You couldn't leave knowing she wasn't safe. Your father understood that much, so much he even sympathized and encouraged you to stay and help now that the immediate danger was over. There's not much more you can say to draw your visit our before Carson buys a return ticket for you without warning. 

“I know,” you say. “But, well. I’m not leaving yet.”

But you will. He knows this, no matter how heavily he accepts it. The hand around your shoulder squeezes you closer. “We’ll make use of the time until you leave, then,” he says. He rubs your arm, growing chillier in the breeze. “Do you want to stay up here a while?”

Up here, just _here_ , what’s the difference? You want to stay. Just for a little while longer if nothing else. You never would’ve thought this trip would be anything other than work and a run for the answers, but now that it’s more, you find yourself wanting to stay for a long time, even coaxing your father to spend weeks at a time up here to see Moira like old times.

You nod. From here, tucked into Alec’s chest, you can smell his aftershave again. You decide to stay a little while longer. 

\--

You visit Moira together a few days later. It's a goodbye visit, because your hotel stay is coming to an end and there's a plane ticket returning home in your belongings, but it still feels like you're letting go too soon. 

Moira opens the door and instantly smacks Alec over the head.

"What is this now, tradition?" He asks, rubbing his head. She looks at him with a blend of frustration, distrust, and begrudging respect. You suppose that being connected in a battle to diffuse bombs together strips away a lot of barriers if nothing else. 

She doesn't trust him—a part of you thinks she'll never trust anyone again, not after everything. But she lets both of you in, and she pours you both tea.

"I'd warn you about not trusting him," she tells you, "but I'm just happy you're all alive."

Her eyes are weighed down with the look only someone who's been through this sort of ordeal twice can have. You hope, for her and for your mother, that she'll never have to live through it again.

"I take it you're going back home to see Carson?" Moira asks after the tea is drunk and the kettle's put back on the stove. She looks apologetic, like she doesn't have enough words to tell you to tell Carson for her, even though she wishes she would. "I can only imagine how worried he's been."

"He's much better now that everything’s over," you say. "Still, I'll probably get a very long welcome home hug."

You tell her you'll come back, and that you hope she'll come visit too. This trip feels like it wasn't just about you solving the mystery of your mother, it was about turning over a new leaf. Encouraging your father to do the same. Maybe by the time Moira can muster up the courage to see you in River Heights, he'll have forgiven her. 

"You'll come back to Scotland?" Alec cuts in. He looks hopeful, hesitant, like he wants you to return. 

"Of course," you say. "You want me to?"

Alec chuckles, and his accent rumbles through it. "Yeah. There's a lot more we can do than just save the city from mortal peril," he shrugs, a crooked smile on his face. "Not my usual first date with a girl."

_First date_. You definitely wouldn’t call all this a first date, and not just because of Revenant and Colony and the general life-threatening situation. You had no idea—but then you look at Alec, all sheepish grins and soft eyes, remembering that kiss at Loch Lomond, and think you should’ve known all along.

\--

This time when he brings you back to your room, you don't let go of his arm. 

You ask him to stay. He does.

You go inside, aware of his footsteps tentatively following you. The room is cool, the window still open and blowing an evening’s chill inside, only a single lamp on the nightstand keeping the room lit in a dim glow. The entire room feels soft, private, different than it feels at daytime.

"You sure you want me to stay?" Alec asks you in a quiet, uncertain voice. 

You find yourself nodding without knowing why. Because you enjoy his company? Because being near him thrills you? Because you want to see what will happen?

"I'm sure," you say as you pull off your jacket. It encourages him to step the extra three feet across the threshold into the room, the door shutting with a snick behind him.

"It's a nice room," Alec says, and it takes you a moment to realize that he's nervous. "Great decoration."

It sounds so uncomfortable, so silly, that you both fall into chuckles. He seems to know why he's here, and what it means that you want him there, and it paints a light blush on his cheeks that you've never seen before. 

You approach him. He watches you do so.

"Nancy," Alec says, and it sounds like the start of a larger conversation, maybe even a dismissal or a plea to be reasonable before he gives in. You don't want to hear it, and splay a finger over his mouth. 

"Stop talking," you tell him.

You think about what else to say—that you want him, that you trust him, that you're glad you're both alive and _here_ , together—but he moves before you can say more, pulling your fingers off his lips and leaning in to kiss you. 

It catches you off guard for a second, but then the second's over and you're on board, hands curling over Alec's shoulders as you tip your head up to meet his mouth. He's taller than you, just enough that you have to roll onto your toes to align your lips. A hand winds its way around your waist, and it almost tickles. It causes you to smile against Alec's mouth, just a soft curve upwards with your lips, but he still notices and pulls back. 

"What is it?" His hand slides down to your hip as he talks.

You shake your head because it doesn't matter. He doesn't bother with more questions, instead pulling you in again and kissing you with more hunger than before, like now that he's tasted you, he's hooked. You get it, looping your arms around his neck, and that's when the back of your legs hit the bed and you fall back onto the meticulously tucked sheets. Alec comes with you, toppling over and bracing himself over your frame. It makes you chuckle.

"Is this okay?" He asks you. His voice sounds rougher than it did a few minutes ago, lips slightly swollen. You nod.

He waits, as if expecting you to change your mind, and when you don’t, completely sure in how you press up against him, he kisses you again.

\--

You wake up warm, cocooned in soft sheets and sunlight, with an arm around your waist. Alec's arm. 

You wait for the regret or the guilt to come trickling in, but it doesn’t. You feel good, refreshed and happy and well-rested. Alec’s chin is hooked over your shoulder, stubble pressed up against your ear, and he seems to notice you’re awake when you shift under the sheets.

His lips brush your ear when he speaks. “Morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. 

“Good morning,” you say in return. It certainly is. You tilt to the side, catching a glimpse of Alec propped up next to you, crooked smile caught in the sunlight.

“Didn’t want to wake you,” Alec murmurs. “But I was starting to get bored.”

You laugh, and he leans down to let your noses brush, pushing them together to gauge your reaction. You tip your chin up to give him the green light, so he cups your cheek and kisses you good morning. It’s soft, short and warm, and then he’s pulling back again, letting you stretch the vestiges of sleep from your limbs.

"I never realized how nice this room is," you say. The curtains are ruffling softly in the morning breeze and the flowers on the table have been replaced by the maids, fresh and bright.

"What? You mean the almost disaster of spreading a horrible virus to the city to take over the power distracted you from your surroundings?" Alec asks. You smile.

"Just a little."

You shift. You've had to wear jackets in Scotland so far, but right now, coddled in the sheets, you're warm and cozy. Alec's lips slide to your cheek, then down to the corner of your mouth. In the light of day, you feel like you ought to regret this, to be reminded of what’s waiting for you at home, but you don’t. You tilt into Alec’s touch.

The way he kisses is like sitting in the sun on a scorching July day, slow and lazy and searing with heat. His stubble rubs around your chin as he arches closer, a foreign sensation when all you’ve ever known are Ned’s chaste kisses and shaven cheeks. You find you like it.

You don't know for how long you kiss. Just kiss, the sheets warm and soft between you. You roll on top of him after some time, halfway draped over his chest as your mouths slide together and his hand slips to the small of your back. You pull back when your phone chimes, a message from your father badgering you about if you’ve gotten your ticket back home yet. You have the distinct feeling that he won’t let you out of his grasp for weeks after you come home.

Alec’s hand slides into your hair after a moment. “You're leaving soon, aren't you?" He asks. You notice that his hair is out of place from sleep, half of it flat against his head and the tuft on the top spiked in haphazard directions. "Going home?"

Your eyes flick to where you know your return flight ticket is tucked into your desk drawer as you slide your phone back onto the nightstand. The flight's only a few days away. 

"Yeah," you admit, readjusting. "My dad’s been worried sick.”

“I get it,” Alec says. “It was definitely a little reckless to come here like you did.”

“I know,” you say, and then roll your eyes. You’ve heard it all before, how you should be more careful, how this mission was more dangerous than the rest because nobody could be trusted. You’re still glad you came, even if only for the lost letters from your mother tucked into your suitcase. “He’s used to it, though.”

“Go sneaking off a lot, then?”

“It’s a hobby of mine,” you say. “I like mysteries.”

“Why?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. They just seem to find me.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying that you’re a magnet for trouble?” He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Sure sounds like it.”

“Maybe,” you say. Your father would definitely say so, and Hannah would agree. Even when you’re meant to relax and enjoy yourself, mysteries find you, and you’ve never seen it as an inconvenience. “I think I like it that way, though.”

Alec throws his head back with an exasperated chuckle. “So what you’re saying is, you like testing fate?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “But I do a pretty good job of taking care of myself.”

He says nothing, and you think that he must already know this. Here you are, all the way in Scotland without supervision, without companions, an independent, fearless woman if nothing else. You’re pretty sure he admires that about you, even if gives him concern for your safety, and that’s something you realize you miss direly with Ned—an understanding for him that you’re meant to run free. Meant to chase whatever intrigues you, even if that means leaving home behind. Meant to be the only one governing yourself. 

“Do you want to stay here for a while?” Alec asks you. “I know there’s a lot of Scotland you haven’t seen yet, but…”

He trails off, leaning back into the pillows. You smile. “I think we can stay a little while longer.”

You stay in the room that day, completely content in the comforts of the bed, and don’t mind.

\--

It's a few days later when he breaks the news to you.

He tells you that Cathedral’s contacted him, and that they’re impressed with his skills. That they want him with their forces, and that he could be a valuable asset. A part of you thinks you saw this coming.

"I feel like I could really help," he says. "Something better than skiptracing. And with you going back to America soon..."

He trails off. It sounds like he would prefer to travel the world with you, to get better at archery together and roam Scotland. You have the urge to tell him that you'll be back, and that you'll see him again, and that he ought to be safe.

You think about Moira, warning you about how Cathedral means well but always ends up in too deep, and you think about your mother, eternally roped into danger she couldn't even hide her family from. Imagining Alec in the same position, throwing himself headfirst into taking down organizations like Revenant, it's somehow both ridiculously foolish and commendable at the same time.

"I wish you'd be there with me, but..." Alec scrubs a hand over his hair. "I don't want to pull you into this. You should have fun. Really live your life."

You want to laugh, because you're pretty sure that hunting down mass terrorist groups counts very much as living life with all the gusto there is, but you get it nonetheless. Revenant isn't your fight. You have a home waiting for you. Your father, Ned, all your friends—even if they represent a world completely different from the one you like to live in, one where you chase bad guys and find secret corridors and solve mysteries, they're a part of you that you'd never give up, let alone willingly endanger or abandon. 

"I get it," you say, and you do. You find Alec's hand with yours. 

"I want you to be safe," Alec says. "So you better go home."

It's sweet, and sad, and totally illogical too. Alec doesn't know that you'll find trouble no matter where you are, that with or without Cathedral you'll never be by any means "safe," but you'll try. 

“I’ll see you again,” you promise him. You’re sure of it. Your mysteries and travels always tend to bring you back together with old friends, even in unexpected places. 

He smiles. “I’m looking forward to it.”


End file.
